Dang it.
Zara shook her head but clapped my back. “You did good, Fury. You’ve
got some bite.”
My enthusiasm drained as I checked the sorry state of the scoreboard.
“But we lost. Big time.”
“Eh, we were never going to win. The Bitches with Bite have been
undefeated for the past two years,” Zara said, guiding me to the pit.
Sam and her teammates circled the rink, pumping their fists and hollering
at the overexcited crowd. As they neared, she winked at me.
Irritation simmering, I skated into the pit, only to be enveloped in Casey’s
arms. “You kicked ass! Way to represent. Next time, aim for her face.”
I shook my head, a part of me hoping there would be a next time because
I’d actually had fun. Skating on eight wheels might be my jam after all.
My teammates were surprisingly upbeat after losing the match. Each of
them congratulated me on my first game, and a few told me to come back
next week. Our team skated around the rink as we congratulated the Bitches
with Bite for their win.
“Ready to go? Drinks are on me,” Casey said as I pulled off my skates
and slipped on my tennies.
My lip was still bleeding, and I probably looked like a sweaty vampire.
“Where can I clean up first?”
Zara pointed to a hall between a pair of bleachers, which were rapidly
clearing out as people filed for the exits, heading to an afterparty or bar, no
doubt.
“I’ll meet you guys in the parking lot,” I said, and headed toward the
bathroom.
The cement floors were sticky with beer and spit and God-knows-what
else. Three women exited the ladies’ room. “Nice jam tonight, girl! Hope to
see you on the rink next week.”
“Thanks,” I said, laughing, and stepped through the scuffed gray door.